i’m moving in about nine days. it’s safe to say the transition and the anticipation is the hardest and my anxiety has been on full alert. i was doing fairly well considering everything going on and i recently started a new medication that has taken the edge off of my anxiety and my irritability. either way, i was really proud of myself. i’m working on continuing to be proud of myself every day for the small victories.
last night i kind of hit a wall. it felt like the hold i had on my sanity slipped a little, i lost my grip a little and i fell asleep praying to a God i don’t know if i believe in, thanking Him for the strength i summoned to battle my demons. woke up this morning feeling a little stuck so i decided to test my luck. sat down to write even a few lines and did something different. typed it out and really put myself in it. so i decided to share, even if you don’t care, maybe it’ll help someone, somewhere. felt like rhyming so, fuck it.
i picture the hallways long, lined with brick and mortar and the occasional oil lamp tucked into the concrete siding. i run my hand along the bulbous cracks, the roughness of the cement seams threaten to pull the loose skin off my fingers, bitten raw by my anxious teeth. it’s cold.
there are steps in front of me and they seem endless. the hallways feel endless, too. i can almost reach the steps but each time i lift my feet, they slide away. they tumble into the endless darkness like my thoughts and get caught under my feet and threaten to send me there, too. i wonder if it’s warm. warm like melted butter. warm like my hand on her thigh. warm like the sun on my face. i need the sun on my face. i know it’s not. i know it’s dark and damp and i know it wants me. maybe i want it, too.
it’s become hard to keep walking these halls, chasing these steps, wondering if i’ll ever be able to climb them. i can feel myself slipping further and further away, the darkness creeping up behind me and stretching out into the vastness in front of me. am i already in it?
i think the halls are circles now. i think they’re tight and cramped and the stairs must be illusions on the ceiling of my past self looking down on me, wondering if i’ll find my way out the way she never did. i’m caught in the madness of my own self. following the path of least resistance, creating my own darkness as i tread the same route and pound my feet into the ground, forcing it to sink further below me like a river to its bank. she obeys.
she molds to my feet and creates streams in my head. i am her and she is me and somehow, me meet in the middle and share our thoughts. we ponder over what if’s and what could be’s. i tell her she’s wrong about me and she places a delicate hand on my face and reminds me, darling, i am you.
she tucks roses into my hair and the thorns prick my skull.
she puts the world in my hands and i drop it at her feet.
she feeds off my disappointment and uses it to fuel her expectations. my self worth and ambition drips off her tongue with each self deprecating remark. she oozes with resistance and i can feel her energy rising, forming bullets ready to attack anyone in her way. they fire off into the walls and i can feel them, shaking with temptation, struggling to hold themselves up, threatening to crumble and swallow me whole, tucking us away together into eternity.
the cement crushes my lungs the dust blocks my air way, the heat rises as the oil lamps continue to burn. i am stuck with her, facing her, the darkness distorting her face, begging me to look her in the eye. i search for recognition, a sliver of light, an ounce of hopefulness and i see red. the edges of her eyes consumed by the glow of my own, reflecting the fires behind her. cascades of black creep over my eye lids until all i see is darkness.
and i float. with one hand on my back, she guides me through the darkness, through the fire. it burns my throat and laps at my face. i think i might die but before i surrender, she blows cold air on my cheeks and brings water to my lips.
she plants seeds in my hair and flowers bloom behind my ears.
she takes the world from my hands and places it at my feet.
i am her and she is me and somehow, i know we wouldn’t be if the other didn’t exist.
anyways, Biden is president now and that’s pretty cool. he’s undoing a lot of the bullshit trump did and that’s pretty cool, too.
if you get the metaphors, that’s dope. if you don’t, basically, they’re both me and they like to sabotage each other before they save each other. if you know anything about mental illness, you’ve probably heard of the rational brain and the irrational brain. this is their fight. the beginning is the complacency and acceptance of mental illness, walking around in circles knowing it’s there but choosing not to face it. the middle is the start of a panic attack and what happens when my rational brain meets my irrational brain. the second half of the middle is when my irrational brain takes over and my rational brain succumbs to panic. the end is when the panic is over and my irrational brain recedes and tries to mend my rational brain because my anxiety can’t live without me and i wouldn’t be who i am without it. my irrational brain makes me think i am dying and my rational brain can’t do anything but sit back and let it consume me until i’ve lost so much control, i force myself to regain it. i plant my own flowers and drink my own water. i lick my wounds and remember to just fucking breathe for a minute but when i forget that i’m capable of that, they’re at odds and damn, it can be debilitating.
anyways, thanks for reading as always. no, i don’t wanna talk about it. i share because i know other people can understand and someone might need my words today. i needed my words today. see them, hear them, appreciate them, absorb them, let them go.